


Pieces of a Whole

by Ahryantah



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahryantah/pseuds/Ahryantah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots from the life of Lisa Park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of a Whole

**Author's Note:**

> This is old, so not season 2 compliant.

When Lisa Park was six, she liked to pretend she was a fairy. At recess she curled up into a hollow at the base of a tree standing on the edge of the playground. Her mother always yelled at her for having dirty jeans when she came home.

"She doesn't play with the other children," her teachers told her mother, while Lisa swung her feet from the too-tall chair and eyed the tree outside the window. She liked to think that it was her real home.

"Why don't you play with the other children?" her father asked her, during one of those rare occasions he got off work in time to have dinner with his family.

"I don't like them," Lisa replied. "They play stupid games."

*

She was in the old shed, the one at the edge of the junkyard that everyone was forbidden to go to, when the earthquake happened.

"What happened? Where were you?" her mother wailed after Lisa limped home on bloody feet. She hadn't put her shoes back on because she knew she would hear it from her mother if she got them all bloody. They were new shoes, which was why she had taken them off before stepping into the grimy shed to play her pretend games with imaginary people.

"I was at Nasreen's," she said automatically. "The earthquake broke their windows and I might have accidentally stepped on the glass." Her words came out shaky, though not as shaky as the rest of her felt. She _hated_ earthquakes.

"Why were your shoes off?" her mother demanded.

"I was indoors," said Lisa, who wasn't friends with Nasreen at all, not that her mother would ever know any different. "It's rude to have your shoes on indoors."

After that, though, she stopped going to the shed. She stopped playing games of pretend at all. She was thirteen, and she was too old for those kinds of games.

*

Lisa was smart, and she was fairly pretty, and she kept to herself, and there wasn't much for the other kids to bully her about like they did the other outsiders. So they mostly left her alone. She liked that, because it gave her more time to study. She liked math, and she really liked physics, and she was pretty good at both.

Her senior year she started tutoring Walter Callahan in calculus, and he returned the favor by helping her with her chemistry homework.

"Reaction mechanisms?" she said in disgust. She threw down her pen and buried her face in her arms. "I hate these problem sets. Why do we need to know this?"

"Here," said Walter, picking up her pen. "These are pretty easy once you figure out the trick. First, you have to--"

But as he bent over his shirt rode up a little, a tiny sliver of skin exposed right at Lisa's eye level. She couldn't look away.

"Are you listening?"

"Chemistry's boring," she said, sitting up on her bed and taking the pen out of Walter's hand. She put a hand on his thigh and he, being a teenage boy, didn't object. "Let's do something more fun."

"Okay," he said, his eyes definitely not on her face.

*

She got into MIT, but didn't get a scholarship. Her family was comfortably middle class, but after her older brothers went to expensive schools there wasn't much in the college fund left for her. So she spent her first year of secondary education at a community college. The people from high school who had stuck around were a lot friendlier now that they had found themselves out in the real world, so for the first time in her life Lisa had people to go out with.

They went out often, mostly to bars.

"So what do you do?" asked a guy she met one night. He was shouting to be heard over the music, and she didn't know his name nor had any desire to find out.

"I'm at MIT," she yelled back.

"Really?" said the guy, looking impressed. "What are you studying?"

"Aerospace and aeronautics engineering," she replied. Those had sounded like good subjects when she had read about them in the course manual, anyway. She was actually majoring in General Studies, because her college didn't have much in the way of a physics department. Off the guy's confused look, she clarified. "Rocket science."

"Wow, awesome," said the guy, and he bought her a drink.

She didn't go home with him, because he was a bit boring. But her lie had awakened an ache within her, one that had faded in the last few months as she had fallen into the rhythm of school-work-weekend. She wanted her lie to be real. So she stopped by her college's financial aid office, had a long talk with the counselor there, and applied for every scholarship she could find, even the ones she wasn't in any way eligible for.

"You have to be Jewish to apply for this," said her friend Tracy one night, looking over one of the applications with a frown.

Lisa snatched the application away. "I can be Jewish for a little while."

"You're going to lie on a scholarship application?"

Lisa shrugged. "That's a little dubious, I suppose." She filled it out and sent it in anyway.

Though she was relieved when she didn't get it.

#

The soft-spoken man with the scruffy hair and the Scottish accent approached her six months after she had defended her dissertation. He had a copy of it with him, which confused Lisa because it wasn't due to be published for another month.

"I get special early editions of the journals," the man explained. "I'm Dr. Nicholas Rush, and I'd like to offer you a job."

She smirked at him. "What kind of job?" She'd just landed her current gig, an adjunct at her old community college, and she was full of ideas about completely reforming the science department and getting some decent physics education going on. As an adjunct she wasn't listened to much, but it was a start, and more importantly it was a _job_. Funny how PhDs didn't automatically translate into paying work. 

She wasn't going to leave behind even what little she had based on vague promises from a stranger.

He handed her his copy of her dissertation. "Fascinating work, Ms. Park. I daresay, based on your current employer, that most people in your field failed to understand it properly."

"Well, what can you do?" she said. She didn't touch the manuscript. She had already started to think of it as a thing she had done once, and now she had to put it behind her.

"I understood it," he said. "I think you'll be very interested in my opportunity."

She regarded him in silence for a moment. "I have to have details before I'll agree to anything."

"Fair enough," said Rush. "If you'll just sign these non-disclosure agreements, we can get started."

*

"I'm not supposed to be here," she told TJ after a particularly bad day on Destiny.

"None of us are," the medic replied, knotting off the stitches she had put into Lisa's cut hand, and then turning her attention to the burn Lisa had gotten from an exploding instrument panel.

"No, but I'm really, really not," said Lisa. "Do you know where Volker was when he was recruited into the SGC?"

"UCLA," murmured TJ, her focus on the burn.

"Right. A professor of astrophysics. And Franklin was recruited to the SGC right out of grad school. They were _waiting_ for him. He never had to even look for a job. Dr. Rush pulled himself out of poverty and ended up at Oxford. Do you know what I was doing before I got recruited?"

"What's that?' said TJ, putting a bandage on Lisa's arm.

"I was an adjunct professor! At a community college! I've never done anything great or worthwhile in my life, except write a dissertation that Rush seemed to like."

"That's not a small thing, Lisa," said TJ. "Besides, look at Eli. He never even finished school."

"Eli's a genius," said Lisa. "I'm smart, yeah, but the kind of smart that's supposed to be teaching astronomy to upperclassmen at a state university. Not the kind of smart that's going to be able to survive for long out _here_. She waved her hand, indicating Destiny. "Rush should have never gotten me involved. I'm going to die out here, or do something stupid and get everyone else killed. I'm never going to see anyone I care about ever again."

TJ sighed and straightened. "Come back tomorrow so I can change that bandage," she said. "And Lisa, you have more than proven yourself just as capable as anyone else on this ship. _More_ capable than most." Neither one wanted to say anything about the people who had died, so a short silence fell over the infirmary.

"Okay," said TJ. "Go on, get some sleep, and don't forget to come back to get that bandage changed. I have some other patients to see."

Lisa slid off the bed and trudged out into the hallway, fully intending to follow TJ's orders. She was exhausted, and she just wanted to get away from her entire existence for awhile. She rounded a corner and nearly slammed into one of the military personnel. "Oh! Uh, sorry, um . . ." She glanced at the name emblazoned across his uniform. "Corporal Rivers. Sorry."

"That's okay," he said, giving her a dazzling grin. His hands were on her shoulders, where he had reached out to steady her when they collided. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just, um, tired," she said. "Just heading back to my room." She pointed down the corridor.

"Do you mind if I walk you there?" asked Rivers. "Not if you don't want me to," he continued hurriedly. "It's just Colonel Young said we should keep an eye on the civilians. We still don't really know what might be on this ship."

"I can walk myself. It's not far," she told him, looking him up and down. It seemed like it had been a long time since she was with Gary back at the SGC. "Though you can accompany me if you really want to."

He nodded. "Lead the way. I'll be on your six."

Lisa barely stifled an immature snort as she continued on her way down the corridor.


End file.
